


Oh

by sunday_morning



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aragorn is tired of their shit, Blind Thranduil, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I took a lot of liberties with Legolas's character, Kinda, Legolas is a daddy's boy, Legolas is a dramatic bitch, M/M, Marriage, Minor Character Death, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Sexual Content, The hobbit didn't happen, Tumblr Prompt, but so is Gimli so its okay, seeing impaired Thranduil more like it, they're both such idiots I love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-19 15:23:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15512778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunday_morning/pseuds/sunday_morning
Summary: “I hope you don’t mind, it's simply elven way to be proud of your marriage” then he continued as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb shell “however I endeavor to respect your cultural and personal preferences as best as possible”The moment between them sizzled, Gimli felt himself as a kettle, quickly reaching his boiling point.Then, as Legolas leaned forward to collect himself, and the tea, Gimli exploded “You’re married!?”Legolas flinched slightly in reaction blinking down at him with large elf eyes, a small questioning smile worked its way onto his lips “what are you-” he stopped short, and as the realization dawned on him, he gave the tiniest “oh”***Inspired by this prompt on tumblrhttps://spork-of-rae.tumblr.com/post/176490644116/spork-of-rae-hc-about-legolas-and-gimlis-first***Legolas thought Gimli understood elven traditions regarding marriage and sex. Gimli does not. This is the story of what happens when an elf and a dwarf accidentally get married while in the middle of a giant war. Featuring a very exasperated human ranger.





	1. Oh?

**Author's Note:**

> I made a headcanon on tumblr, people liked it, I decided to write a fic. Simple as that, right? Wrong!
> 
> I was going to write a short one shot, maybe a few thousands words, but because it's me, it got out of control. 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy.

While many differences exist between an elf and a dwarf, the starkest of all is that of mortality.

At a certain extent of isolation from the world, the concept of death becomes mangled and shadowed in an elves mind. It stays that way until they witness it first hand. In all its glory, and horror.

The same can be said for Legolas, prince of the woodland realm. When Legolas was a child he witnessed the death of his mother, the near mortal grief of his father, and the fear. Legolas remembered crawling on his father’s chest as a small child, curling up, and crying. He remembered the kind but sympathetic face of the healer explaining to him in words he could hardly understand that his father likely wouldn’t make it through the night, and that he should stay with him to ease his passing. Legolas remembered the fear that he would be crowned king as a mere child. He wondered if mortal grief would take him too, if the realm would have no heirs after wards, he wondered why the idea didn’t even bother him. He remembered the night stretching so long it felt like it would never end, laying on his father’s chest and hearing his heart beat slowly but surely and he remembered waking up the next morning, not quite sure when he had fallen asleep, the rise and fall of his father’s chest still as sure as ever. 

Legolas remembered his father’s slow recovery, his return to the throne. 

He remembers losing his mother and almost losing his father too.

In Legolas’s mind he could never forget the true feeling of grief, the pain, the shocking heart stopping fear. But when he watched Gandalf fall from the bridge of Khazad-dum in Moria, and he heard Frodo’s scream it didn’t register. He ran from the sight following Aragorn and Boromir and when they left the darkness of Moria he stood. He watched.

And suddenly he understood. 

Gandalf was dead.

The concept seemed bizarre and far away as if Legolas was watching from a glass window hung between them. He watched as the hobbits seemed to collapse under the grief, he watched as his dwarven companion held his chest and hid his tears from no one. He watched Aragorn shift uncomfortably and Boromir sink to his knees and rub his face. It took a minute for the seriousness to sink in, and when it did it hit him full force and he turned from his company- no his friends and let the pain hit him. His eyes burned, and his breathing came harder to him. He was close to Gandalf, yes of course, they all were but his death is not what scared him so. What scared him was the harsh realization of mortality that surrounded everyone around him. Legolas too could die of battle wounds, but if by some miraculous blessing his friends did not die in this battle, death would come to them eventually. His knees buckled slightly, and his vision shifted from the green hills and stark mountainside, to his mothers funeral, holding the too cold hand of his Ada and crying. 

Legolas remembered Thranduil looking down and kneeling in front of him, wiping his tears with his thin fingers “do not cry little leaf, she would not want to see you this way” 

For some reason his words only made him cry harder, he didn’t want to make his mother sad. Thranduil sighed and lifted Legolas to his hip. Legolas turned from the casket and buried his face in his fathers hair, and though he could not see his face the slight shaking from his chest made him realize, his father was crying too. 

When Legolas hit the ground, he was back on the mountain, the soft feel of grass below his fingertips brought life back to his very breathe. He was a wood elf that is. 

Legolas sat kneeling on the grass and after a moment of composure, he slid his bow and quiver off his back and a pulled a rag from his pack to clean his arrows. He let the repetitive actions soothe him and he let the images flying through his mind clear slowly. He listened to the sound of the flora around him, the soft rustle of the grass and the laughter of the trees swaying in the wind. 

Then he heard something else. Not quite man, but not hobbit either. A dwarf. The rustle was Gimli, moving behind him. Standing, then wandering closer and closer to him, he listened to him stop and hover behind him. Legolas bit his bottom lip, wishing the spirit of the greenery to turn him away. He didn’t want to be bothered by dwarven loudness right now, he didn’t want to continue the light-hearted competitiveness that lay between them. He wanted to be alone. Just for a while. Just until the grief was enough to bare alone. 

But Gimli did not leave. 

He stood behind him, then shuffled, then reached out and grabbed hold of his shoulder. Legolas would have flinched under other circumstances, he would’ve withdrawn, or walked away. But there was something about Gimli’s touch, the heat that seeped from his skin to Legolas’s. there was something indescribably gentle about Gimli’s fingers, a softness Legolas couldn’t have expected from the dwarves calloused and rough palm. Legolas yearned to lean into the touch, but he withheld, the action bordering displays of affection for the elf. The hand moved away quickly but Gimli didn’t leave, he walked around and joined Legolas in the grass. 

Their eyes met for only a moment, and Gimli gave a rough sniff, wiping a stubborn tear from his exposed cheek. He then withdrew his axe from his back and joined Legolas in the cleaning of his bloody weapon. 

They didn’t share any words. Just the same space. 

By the time Aragorn called for them to move again, and both of their choice weapons were scrubbed cleaner then they were the day they were made, Gimli simply offered Legolas a hand up, and they moved on. No words had been spoken, but something between the two had changed. 

That was the first time he noticed.

It happened again on the road to Lothlorien while the others slept, Legolas keeping watch. When time came for the fellowship to move again, Legolas rose and called for the others. They shifted and slowly woke to full conscious, all except Gimli. Legolas figured the only one to sleep through the waking calls would be the dwarf, he mused silently how any of them arrived for early meetings or trainings if they couldn’t wake when called. 

Legolas stood and shook the dwarf awake with his boot, jumping back when Gimli awoke with a shout and took a small hand axe to the place Legolas once stood.

Legolas landed on a boulder a few feet away and watched in shock as Gimli blinked into existence and spotted the elf perched on the rock like a frightened cat.  
Their eyes met wide in slight anticipation. Gimli waiting for Legolas’s reaction, Legolas waiting to decide on his own reaction when something unexpected happened. Something in the moment between them shifted to humor and they shared first a smirk, then a chuckle, then loud rounds of laughter sprung between them. When the spell had passed, and Legolas had reached out a hand to right Gimli, the moment was over, and their journey continued. 

And if their fingers lingered too long, Legolas wasn’t to take notice, or care. 

That should have been it, but it continued.

In Lothlorien, when the fellowship headed to the elven bathhouses and Legolas caught a glimpse of Gimli’s bare chest, covered in the same fiery hair that covered his head, he felt a cold… something drop in his stomach and chill him to the bones. Legolas forced his eyes to continue on their intended path and forced his feet to move. He was simply weary from his journey was all. A good elven bath and a hearty meal of greens would have him feeling better in no time. 

Not a day later Celeborn and Galadriel called for Legolas privately to relay a message from his father. It was simple, a good luck and a wish for him to return unscathed. Legolas knew the damage his father had endured at the hands of dragons, he knew that his father was constantly terrified not only of Legolas not returning from battle, but of Legolas returning from battle, scarred and bloody. He wished to spare his son the pain he had endured.

Galadriel and Celeborn shared a teasing look then turned to Legolas with a smirk. Galadriel spoke with a light hearted and cheery tone, the same tone she used with him not too long ago when he was simply a child. “His exact words were ‘check on my little leaf’ I believe” 

Legolas fought hard not to show his embarrassment, he was nearing 1000, he was no longer the child his father thought him of. Yet still, his father’s concern for him brought happiness to his heart and heaviness to his mind. 

Galadriel continued “so, ‘little leaf’ do you have any message you wish us to pass on to your father?” some how keeping a tight edged control of formality even through her teasing remarks 

Legolas swallowed thickly and shifted in place “I wish for you to solidify my well being in his mind, I know he can worry. Let him know I have no battle wounds or scars” Legolas lied, he had been lightly scratched by an orc in the battle of Moria on the side of his chest. A small wound, barely noticeable by the trained elf, but one that pulled at his muscles annoyingly every once in a while just to remind him that it existed. “and that I have found true friends in those who accompany me, that I trust them to fight not for me, but with me as equals” 

He cut himself off before he began to ramble, but Legolas’s mind wandered off to the members of the fellowship. The true friendship and leadership he found in Aragorn. The companionship of the hobbits, the humor he found in their ways. In their simple courage and bravery to wander where most their size do not. He even found interest in Boromir, who brashness and inflexible persistence set him apart from the group. Then his mind wandered to Gimli, the friendship between them was timid and resourceful, clever but competitive. Mostly, in Gimli’s eyes he found hope, opportunity for their friendship to grow strong and steady, like the tree roots that spread below their feet. But then, memories of grey robes, walking sticks, and pointy hats flashed through his mind. A deep warm chuckle and pipe smoke fashioning itself into a raven, and chasing Pippin around the camp, sweet memories turned sour. He turned the thoughts away.

Galadriel nodded. At the memory of Gandalf, the air between them grew somber and stale. Galadriel shifted forward, taking a motherly step forward. 

When Legolas’s mother had died, as his father recovered, he was sent to the Golden Forest to be raised and nurtured there. He didn’t understand the reason for his relocation as a child so soon after his mother’s passing, but later Legolas looked back at the incident and understood. He looked too much like his mother, a constant reminder, it likely made it harder for his father to recover as well. It was under the caring hands of Galadriel and Celeborn that Legolas first learned to shoot a bow. He had never told anyone, but they were practically his second set of parents. 

Galadriel hesitated to hug him, or touch him in any other way but she spoke quietly in their native tongue “I’m sorry to hear of the passing of Gandalf, there will be a grieving hymn for him later this night as the moon rises high”

Legolas nodded but kept a stoic face 

She continued. “It is never easy for any to lose a friend, but it may yet be harder for elves who experience so little death in their life time” the words ‘except you’ remained unspoken

Legolas’s eyebrows burrowed, and he shook his head “no, but I believe it is harder yet for those who knew him deeply. He knew Frodo since he was but a child, and had a strong connection with the hobbits, they all loved him.” He stepped away slightly, raising his eyes to meet hers. “I have endured worse, but it is not my grief that you should be concerned with” 

Celeborn stepped forward and placed a comforting hand around Galadriel’s shoulder. “Yes, we know the pain the hobbits have endured, but we asked not of them, but of you.” He stepped forward so that he and Galadriel were shoulder to shoulder “How are you fairing Legolas” 

Legolas saw the kindness behind their eyes, and the intention in their voice, but he also understood the underlying message. The withheld looks of pity as if he was fragile, a piece of porcelain ready to break. They were asking if he wanted to go home. Reminding him that he had no obligation, that no one would blame him. 

Legolas stood straighter, whipping his expression into that of royal indifference, the kind mimicked from his own father “I am fine.” He said, hoping that to be the end of the conversation but Celeborn pushed on 

“If you are not-”

“I’m fine!” Legolas interrupted 

A moment of silence passed between the three, as Legolas realized his outburst may not have entirely proven his intended point. In the quiet a small knock came from the door, Legolas turned away from the opening door, sure that whoever was on the other side heard his cry. Galadriel moved slowly from the space to the door and opened it gently to reveal a small but well cleaned red-headed dwarf. 

Legolas spared a glance and hoped that unlike Aragorn, Gimli had not learned the language of his people.

Gimli stood awkwardly for a moment then, raised his closed fist to place it awkwardly over his chest in an elvish salute. He bowed slightly in the direction of Galadriel and then at Celeborn. 

Legolas’s eyes narrowed slightly at the gesture, where had he learned that?

“-er, I don’t mean to interrupt my lady and…” he spared a glance at Celeborn, likely trying to differentiate gender “my lord?” Gimli guessed glancing at Legolas who nodded his affirmation “But I’ve come to collect Legolas, we have a long journey to plan, and we needed one of our members to be present” There was stagnant pause and Gimli continued “But if this is a bad time I can just tell everyone to wait a bit” his eyes darted between Legolas and Celeborn

Galadriel nodded with all the grace of an elvish queen then returned to Legolas’s side, she looked into his eyes deeply and gave a slightly sad smile before turning to Gimli again “No, that will not be necessary, Legolas is free to go” 

But when Legolas turned to leave she grabbed hold of his arm and said in Silvan “I will pass on your message. If your journey carries on for too long and you find yourself able to rest, send your father a letter. He cares for you.” Then quieter still “we all do. Stay safe Legolas” 

He nodded slightly hoping to express everything through his gestures, his apology his gratitude. Then he simply turned around and followed Gimli through the door. 

As it closed behind them, they were shut in pale darkness. Only bright enough to see very near, Legolas could barely make out the dark freckles on Gimli’s nose, and on second thought, why was he so close?

They walked slightly down the steps in silence before Gimli asked gruffly “are you okay?” 

Legolas thought he looked fine, but he must have shown his unease somehow. He nodded “I am quite fine” 

Gimli turned to him and reached out a hand, entwining their fingers. Legolas was thankful for the relative darkness so no elves on the higher levels could witness he movement, and thankful more still that Gimli couldn’t see the blush that had settled on his cheeks. Legolas knew little of dwarven customs, but elves were proper and minimal in their displays of affection. 

One didn’t hold the hand of another until they were betrothed, or at least close to being so. 

Legolas looked down at their fingers and felt something flutter in his chest. Perhaps he wasn’t quite as well as he was telling everyone, maybe he was coming down with something. 

Gimli cleared his throat and spoke as casually as ever “I don’t know what all that shouting was about aye, but I know an argument when I hear one, in any language” he waited for Legolas to respond, but something had felt like it had lodged its way into his throat and stayed there, he couldn’t move, much less speak. So, Gimli continued “Just know that, you don’t have to be some brave soul that suffers in silence. You and Aragorn are right pig-headed” 

Legolas gave a slight chuckle at that, relieved to see the function seeping back into his vocal chords

“But, we’re all hurting.” Gimli sniffed roughly, Legolas knew how much the loss of Balin pained him so “You don’t need to keep it inside you know. We understand”

Legolas nodded, knowing Gimli likely couldn’t see the gesture in the darkness. 

Gimli himself was simply watching the elves delicate features through his dwarven eyes unabashedly. Thankful for the poor eyesight of elves when in darkness. Thankful moreover for the eyes of dwarves in the dark.

Legolas gave a tentative squeeze of Gimli’s fingers, relishing the calloused finger tips but the gentle touch. It was a contradiction like so much about Gimli. “This I know of” Legolas said “but I thank you for the reminder master dwarf”

With that their fingers untangled, and they continued walking in silence before Legolas asked, “how do you know the elvish salute?”

Gimli scoffed “I know of some elvish customs of course, greetings, giving thanks, proclamations of love if you know what I mean” he said with a wiggle of his great eyebrows. He kept walking.

Legolas stopped in his tracks letting Gimli fall ahead. His mind was abuzz, if Gimli knew of elvish affection, and he held his hand, then he must have known what he was doing. Was he- was he courting him? He gave a small "oh?"

But Gimli kept his pace up hardly noticing that Legolas had fallen behind. 

Legolas took the moment to let his face light up and he smiled into the darkness. He was courting him! A dwarf! The idea was absurd, but not too absurd that Legolas scoffed at the notion. Was it bad that he didn’t hate the idea? Was it bad that he even wanted to respond to the courtship with displays of affection all his own? Was it bad he was smiling so soon after the passing of one of their own?

“catch up laddie!” Gimli shouted back

Legolas rallied his features back into that of nonchalance and ran slightly to Gimli walking side by side as if nothing had happened. 

Even in the dark halls of Lothlorien, Legolas found a small beacon of brightness to light his way. 

He followed it eagerly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a kudo if you enjoyed or drop me a comment to make my entire week better. Or you could say hi to me on tumblr at spirk-of-rae


	2. Oh!

Again, and again and again Legolas and Gimli would find each other, and the world would seem to simply melt away. But they never spoke of it afterward, preferring to ignore their connection, and their growing courtship. 

It seemed to be a theme.

When Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli had been separated by the others, chasing the hot trail of Pippin and Merry, Legolas stayed awake and watched the stars. Thinking of the light, and of his home. 

Gimli who had watch came and sat next to him on a stone as Aragorn slept.

Looking up to the heavens Legolas spoke “They’re beautiful”

He didn’t openly watch Gimli, but he could see him from his periphery as he stole a glance at Legolas 

“aye” Gimli said “they are”

They did not touch, they did not speak, but the moment between them was peaceful and heavy with unspoken desires 

The next morning, they continued without mention of the night before. 

While roaming through a forest on the continued search, Legolas climbed a tree and shook the acorns from their place. One fell and bounced off Gimli’s helmet, he looked up at Legolas and shouted something likely profane in his language. 

Legolas watched with joy as Aragorn carefully and expertly avoided any and all falling objects. 

Legolas hung from a branch then landed besides Gimli who had removed his helmet to check for any lasting damage. 

Legolas picked the acorn with nimble fingers and held it to the sky. “My mother used to call me acorn” The sentence only struck him odd after the words had been said. He barely spoke of his mother. He was told by his father to leave the past in the past. There were still statues and portraits of her of course but they did not speak of her together. It was a part of his past that was secret and was wished to remain that way. But for some reason, when Legolas spoke to Gimli of her, he didn’t feel the accompanying pain or guilt. Just a light heartedness that washed over him as her memory did 

Gimli gave a slight chuckle “I can’t ever imagine you being small enough to be called an acorn”

Legolas smiled at his words “I was once, elves are not born as tall as they are fully grown” 

“I can’t hardly picture a baby elf” Gimli confessed popping his helmet back on his head “I don’t know if I want to”

“They look similar to human baby’s only with more prominent ears.” Legolas said 

“Isn’t that the same with adult elves too?”

Legolas gave an offended gasp "are you comparing me to a child or a man?"

Gimli thought on it for a moment then asked "which ones worse?"

Aragorn rolled his eyes from where he prepared a fire, and Legolas turned from him, to look back at Gimli as they shared a smile "definitely a man" 

Gimli chuckled "than a man I'm comparing you too"

Legolas eye's widened and pushed slightly back at Gimli “that is not true, and you know it as well!” 

Gimli gave a large hoot of laughter and narrowly avoided Legolas’s swats of displeasure 

“we are nothing like men, we are taller, our hair finer and longer, our faces unable to carry beards” Legolas began listing “and we are more skilled in battle, handling of weapons, and in literature and language” He stood chasing Gimli as he laughed, dodging a pinecone kicked at him “we are trained in high halls and we distribute food so none of our members may starve, we have a certain high disposition attributed to our race. We are nothing like that of blundering men” 

He watched Gimli trip over a large tree root and land on his chest, Legolas could hardly stop himself from losing footing as he tried to quickly make up for the disappearing foot hold. He tried to step over the dwarf, but his shoe slipped on the soft dirt on his way down and fell, almost sitting on the dwarf himself. At that, both bodies began to tip over as they fell together down a small leaf covered hill.

When they finally stopped rolling the two were a mess of bodies and tangled limbs, attempting to stop laughing so they could actually catch their breath.

Gimli pushed Legolas off with a “Ge’ off me” then he turned to him with a quirk of his eyebrows and said “Aye, you’re nothing like men, but you can fall like a dwarf”

Legolas burst out laughing, loudly and unabashedly. Oh, if only his father could see him now, laughing loudly covered in dirt while sitting half on a dwarf and half on the ground. 

Legolas and Gimli watched as Aragorn stole a sight of the two of them and grumbled about moving on to collect firewood or something, clearly an excuse to leave them be. As if embarrassed by their very existence. 

Legolas and Gimli took it as an excuse to laugh louder. 

By the time the laughter slowed to a stop, Legolas stood dusting himself off and offered a hand to Gimli. They both stood in the clearing and stretched slowly working out their muscles and scraping the dirt off their clothes. 

Legolas gave a deep sigh, one that only comes after a large bout of laughter, or tears. He looked at the acorn still tucked between his fingers tightly and stole a glance at Gimli. He offered the acorn to him, and Gimli took it willingly, tucking it into his pocket. 

“I’ll keep it with me always” the teasingly he drawled a “my little acorn”

Legolas pushed him slightly on his shoulder then felt himself blush under Gimli’s gaze. Legolas stole himself then ducked down quickly to press a kiss to Gimli’s cheek. When he straightened he fought a smile from forming too large on his face, then tucked a strand of hair that came loose behind his ear. He turned from Gimli, to watch the camp above them. 

Gimli raised a single gloved hand to feel the skin and hair of his cheek where Legolas’s lips had touched. He smiled quickly then tried to bury it under a façade of toughness. He cleared his throat.

Legolas spoke “we should at least offer our assistance to Aragorn”

Gimli cleared his throat and nodded “aye, we should probably help the laddie out. Let’s hope he hasn’t completely given up hope on us and left while we were down here”

Legolas smiled at the teasing and began making his way up the hill back to the campsite. “Let’s hope not” 

Just like always, they didn’t speak of the kiss, or the acorn, that remained steadfast in Gimli’s pack. They simply moved on, as if nothing had changed between them.

When Gimli offered Legolas a small bouquet of wildflowers he had picked from the hill side. When Gimli braided flowers in Legolas hair, and Legolas the same for him. When they stayed up late and replaced Aragorn’s sword with flowers as he slept. The star gazes. The secretive hand holds. The quiet cautious smiles. The loud rounds of laughter. The quiet moments too. Braiding each other hair with soft touches. The shared glances. Days running and nights sleeping hard. They spoke of none of it. Legolas always knew that it couldn’t remain that way. Sooner or later, they would have to admit it. They would have to discuss their growing bond. When Legolas would have to admit to himself and one day perhaps his father that he wanted to stay by the side of a dwarf. That we wanted to be with him, his friend, his lover, his One. 

It wasn’t until they stopped for the night at a tavern that the careful façade of ignorance and nonchalance came crashing down.

They had stopped for a night eager for a warm bath, good ale, and sturdy bed made of downing and not of dirt and leaves. They were sore and aching, hopes dispirited by another false lead, they were in dire need of a good rest.

They were fortunate enough to find a small run-down tavern, filled to the near brim with people of all creeds and races, men and dwarves muddled about drinking heartily and calling for more. Even a lone elf seemed content to read a scroll by the light of the moon. The floors sank under their movement, the whole room creaked as dancing was taken up in the middle of the room, the music was pitched so it hurt Legolas’s ears, and their bread was stale at best. 

By far, it was their best stay in weeks. 

The first thing they did was book three rooms, while they were all fond of the others company they had grown tired of listening to their dreams muttered in native tongues, and Gimli’s snoring made both Aragorn and Legolas want to rip their ears off, Elven or not.

Raw and extended exposure to another person can make even their subtlest qualities irksome, and they all longed for a bed of their own. 

But soon after their rooms were booked they headed straight to the bar to drown their sorrows. Aragorn surprised them all by drinking his weight in mead. By his fourth tankard, he was hanging off Legolas and speaking in riddled half Westron half Sindarin. Gimli was sat across the table from the two watching in humor and sipping an ale of his own. 

Aragorn slung his body across Legolas’s, almost laying across his lap. Legolas tried to ignore the heat radiating from his cheeks from the close contact, elves were not the touchiest of creatures, but Legolas was already warmed with a few too many wines himself. While the effects of alcohol did little to the elven form, they effected things like cognition, reflexes, and of course loosened the mental barrier between thought and spoken word.

Aragorn looked up at Legolas from his lap and reached up with two tired and childish hands for Legolas’s ears. Legolas covered his ears expertly with his hands, for laying on his lap was pushing it but the fondling of elvish ears was too much for even him to bare. 

Aragorn made a deep whine at the back of his throat and threw one arm over his face dramatically. 

Legolas could barely piece together what he said speaking in a different elven dialect that Legolas was raised in, and partly in slurred Westron, but he knew it had to do with Arwen and her ears. He talked about the elven promise of chastity until marriage, or marriage through breaking that promise. Legolas blushed again and glanced at Gimli who looked more confused than ever seeing as he could only understand half of what Legolas could. It was only when Aragorn started speaking of what he wished to do with Arwen’s ears did Legolas decide it was time to get him to bed. 

Legolas shared a look with Gimli, who nodded without having to share words. Gimli stood then swallowed the rest of his drink quickly before going around and throwing himself under one arm of Aragorn, while Legolas supported him on the other side. Gimli cursed his shortness at having to raise his arms above his head to keep Aragorn slightly balanced. 

Legolas swatted Aragorn’s wandering hand away from his ears once more while Gimli and he lugged the useless oaf up the stairs and into the room. It was only when they were standing outside the door did they realize Aragorn had left the key, and Gimli glad to be separated from the situation, excused himself back downstairs to pick them up. 

It’s when Aragorn began speaking in his messy bilingual tone. He spoke of Arwen’s hair and his hope that she would go to the undying lands. He explained that he wanted to be with her, but more than that he wanted her to live, even if they were apart. 

Legolas smiled at the sentiment, one that was shared by not only men like Aragorn who fell in love with elves but elves themselves who might one day fall in love with mortals. Elves were warned of its danger, to bond with a mortal meant loneliness if not death. Mortal grief had taken more than a few good elves before. When Legolas almost lost his father to it, he promised never to fall for one who might die. He knew in his heart that as his mother was elf, elves could die as quickly as other creatures. But he knew his father could not lose him too.

Yet here he was, falling quickly for a mortal creature, a dwarf no less. He was promising himself a life of eternal disappointment or sure death and he knew his father couldn’t survive losing someone else. He knew what he risked but he knew it was something he couldn’t hardly avoid either. His feelings for Gimli shared only through simple touches and stolen glances gave him a glimpse of the world in all its colors. 

“You may not think it so, but Arwen has been given a blessing. Arwen had been given a choice to live eternally and alone, crippled under the weight of love lost, or grow old with you. Either way she chooses death eventually. But only one choice gives her happiness. Gives her love.” Legolas almost choked on his next words as the realization hit him full force “If given her blessing, I would gladly choose the mortal life. My tale is long, and I have seen much grief. If I could age next to my One, I would. I would live every day watching the world in the brightest colors, I would watch the leaves turn orange in hues I never thought to be possible. And when the clouds turn grey and storms gather, I would gladly live in the rain and dance under the thunder, because life is beautiful yes, but it is nothing when compared to life with a love.” He turned his gaze to Aragorn fondly, he was sagging against the door frame and looking up with wide wondering eyes “I don’t know if you’ll remember any of this tomorrow, alas I don’t know why I’m telling you now. I just wish, I wish you could understand just how lucky you are to live and age and die next to the person you love”

Aragorn nodded sadly, as if his head weighed too much to keep up. There was silence and then “are you talking about Gimli?” 

Legolas visibly flinched under his words, and reflexively glanced around him to see if anyone had heard. The hallway was empty, save a very drunk man trying to open his door with the wrong end of a key. Besides that, Aragorn spoke in Sindarin and any who was not trained in that dialect wouldn’t understand. 

Still, he lowered his voice. “how do you know?” he hissed 

As Aragorn opened his mouth to respond, a very red and out of breath dwarf came sprinting up the stairs and explained “I don’t know where it’s gone, it’s not on the table nor on the hook and the bar maid looked angry when I told her you misplaced it so no hope with getting a replacement” 

Aragorn hiccupped and gave Legolas a rather loaded look glancing between the two. Finally, he slid a hand into his pocket a withdrew the key giving an overly shocked look at the object then shrugging dramatically. “found it”

Legolas watched in disbelief as he opened the door and slid into his room quietly with a playful Sindarin “good luck” as the door closed behind him leaving both Legolas and Gimli confused in the dark. 

Gimli turned to Legolas and burrowed his eyebrows “well wat was all that about? I don’t understand why Aragorn would hide th-”

But Legolas didn’t let him finish. In a feat of exhaustion, hope, and ‘fuck it all’ attitude he swooped down and gathered Gimli’s face in his hands and kissed him. 

He kissed him. For the confusion they both endured in the first second of the kiss that was all that rang through their heads. ‘I’m kissing him’ and ‘he’s kissing me’ Legolas reveled in the hair that tickled his face, in the deep smell of warm ale, linseed oil, and sweat. An utterly intoxicating combination that would offend Legolas’s nose in any other situation but appeared to him as perfume. His lips, for all the hard edges of Gimli his lips were soft. His… lips… his completely unresponsive lips… and then Legolas withdrew, the realization of his actions hitting him full force. He took a step back, nearly colliding with the other side of the hallway. 

For a moment a hundred different thing ran through his head. Anger and lust and confusion. He needed to go to bed. No, first he needed to apologize. And then he needed to go to bed. And then he needed to write to his father. A lot of things were happening. 

When Legolas spoke, it was quiet and timid, not with the royal assuredness he usually mustered “I- I’m sorry” He finally looked up the Gimli, not able to make out the subtle features in his face in the darkness. “I shouldn’t hav-”

But now it was Gimli who interrupted him, by approaching him quickly, pulling down on his tunic, and gluing his lips to his. Legolas stood bent almost in half to reach Gimli and Gimli stood on his tip toes to reach Legolas. It was all too ridiculous, and Legolas let the shock that hit him melt away and he reveled in the feeling. 

The taste. The touch. It was all too much. Finally, Legolas sank to his knees to reach his height more properly, which was still awkward, since now he was almost shorter then Gimli. Their lips separated for a moment as they changed position, but quickly found each other again. 

The first kiss was desperate, yes. But it was tentative, it was cautious, careful, questioning. This one was desperate in a way Legolas didn’t know others could kiss. It was deep, passionate, he could feel a hunger resonate off him, not for food or ale, but for Gimli himself. 

He wanted it all. 

Legolas brushed a hand through Gimli’s beard, revealing in the thickness, and when it reached his chin. He used it to guide Gimli’s face closer to him. Enjoying the feeling of Gimli, he didn’t know before.

Before they could go farther, a door creaked in the hallway, as the drunk man finally found out how to use his key and he slipped awkwardly into his room. Legolas and Gili turned to each other, an awkwardness settling between them. 

Finally, Gimli grabbed the hand Legolas had wound inside his beard and held it firmly between his own. “My love for this is great but we should probably…” he cleared his throat “get to bed” 

Legolas’s eyes widened, and he nodded. Standing up he brushed his tunic off with his free hand and leaned down to kiss Gimli’s scraggly cheek once more. “Of course,” he squeezed Gimli’s hand. “until next time master dwarf” 

But as Legolas pulled away to enter his room and smile into a pillow, Gimli pulled him back “and where are you going?”

Legolas raised an eyebrow “to bed… aren’t you?” 

Gimli shuffled his feet awkwardly and then said “aye, that’s what I was planning” 

Legolas’s mind ran circles around itself trying to figure out the subtle nuisances to Gimli’s speech. Were all dwarves this figurative? When his mind stumbled on another explanation his eyes widened drastically and the butterflies fought in the cage in his chest. Legolas gave a small shocked “Oh!” then he looked down at their intertwined hands. 

“I mean, not if you don’t want to of course” Gimli said to the silence 

“No. It’s not my lack of want that makes me hesitate. I only…” Legolas swallowed “there are certain… traditions surrounding Elven…” he floundered for the lack of a proper word “intercourse” Legolas blushed impossibly red 

“Aye, of that I know” Gimli said

Legolas’s eyes lit up, staring deeply at Gimli. “You do?”

“Aye, there cultural differences between us all. But Legolas” he said stepping forward and placing a sturdy hand on Legolas’s side “I want to be with you” 

Legolas thought back to Gimli’s elven salute to the lady Galadriel and Celeborn. Perhaps certain eleven customs were not as private as he originally assumed. If Gimli could surprise him by knowing certain elven ways, then of course he knew about elvish marriage rituals… 

“and you still want to?” Legolas asked 

“aye. I still want to” Gimli said

Legolas was surprised how much like a mountain Gimli was. Strong in his ways, sturdy dependable, but ever changing. Just as you believed you had seen all he had to offer there was another cave to explore, another tree to climb, another adventure hiding behind every rock and pebble. Legolas, even a tree elf had always loved the mountains. 

Legolas thought about it. To lay with Gimli would be to marry him. When elves courted the other, it would take decades to decide to go further. His father and mother courted for over 80 years before becoming betrothed for another 10. It was a long decision for an elf, and as Legolas neared 1000 years, he was still young and unsure of his path in life. To marry someone, he had known for so little was rushed yes, but he couldn’t help but feel as if he knew Gimli for longer. It was as if, he had slowly worked his way into his life and all his past memories. As a child as Legolas ran in the gardens, he was running not to a tree, but to Gimli. He ran towards a future with him. Long nights watching the stars, and braiding each other hair, cheek kisses, and awkwardly placed hand holds. When he met Gimli is when Legolas’ life truly began to make sense. 

It was hardly traditional, but a bed wedding for elves wasn’t entirely uncommon. For a moment his mind wandered to his father, the look on his face when he found out, the disappointment, the anger, but he quickly pushed it from his mind and he smiled widely. 

He was going to be married!

He nodded, tightened his grip on the dwarf and let Gimli lead the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what the heck?! Have the second chapter too! Go crazy! Have a party!
> 
> leave a kudo or a comment if you enjoyed (comments give me a reason to live) or hang out with me on tumblr at spork-or-rae
> 
> the last chapter will be out by the end of the week!


	3. Oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay! I was going to post the last chapter yesterday but I had a surprise visit from my family!  
> Here you are! :)

The next morning, before the sun had quite risen, Legolas woke from bed and stretched deeply. He gazed ever so fondly at the dwarf that lay by his side, tangled in sheets, and naked from the waist up. Legolas let his whole-body tingle with happiness and excitement. He was married. He had a husband. They hadn’t found Pippin and Merry yet. They were in the middle of a large war. Their likelihood of surviving this together was practically nonexistent. The likelihood that his father would ever talk to him again, if they did was even smaller. And it didn’t matter in the slightest. Legolas felt his ears jump in excitement, he leaned over Gimli and pressed a kiss to his bare chest smiling as he mumbled something his sleep and turned away. Unable to contain himself he pressed yet another kiss to Gimli’s cheek then rose from bed.

Gimli was right. Sex was good. Gimli had explained that dwarves were allowed to experiment frequently, that were given the right to explore their sexuality and subsequently themselves, but that they were strict in their dating and marriage bonds. Gimli had done it a few times before Legolas, but Legolas himself was nervous and shaky, unsure of what to do, or what to expect. But, just like Gimli had said, he trusted his body, trusted his partner, and it all worked out. 

Legolas was excited to try it again sometime. Now that he could willingly with his husband. His husband!

He dressed quickly, pulling his hair out from under his tunic. He realized that he can now change his traditional hairstyle from travel to marriage. He brushed his hair out with a fine horse hair brush from his pack, calming his thin fly-aways. Then with nimble fingers he plaited his hair into thin strips and worked his way slowly down the back of his head. Traditionally, elves braided their partners hair after their marriage, but with Gimli being dwarven, and asleep, Legolas did it himself. He hoped when he would wake Legolas would braid Gimli’s hair to participate in a little elven tradition.

He tied it off, smiled again at his sleeping husband, strapped his knife to his side, and went out to collect herbs. Along with the braiding, Legolas hoped to find the herbs to make Gimli a tea. It was common to create a marriage tea for elven ceremonies, to be shared on each anniversary. Usually the ceremony occurred on the wedding day and not the day after but since this marriage wasn’t the epitome of tradition, Legolas was willing to compromise. The herbs were also normally chosen before the wedding with advice from elders and married couples, but Legolas could improvise with some plants he knew grew around here.

Legolas left the tavern, stepping out into a a new day as the sun rose besides him. 

Gimli woke up alone. 

Alone and slightly confused at it as well. 

Legolas the night before had seemed tentative but determined as well. He explained many times his desires, but he thought the ‘what’ wasn’t simply sex but a relationship as well. But now, he had gone before even Gimli had woken, leaving his bow across the wardrobe but nothing else. 

Gimli stood. He wasn’t going to force anything on the laddie, if all Legolas wanted was a roll in the hay, then that was fine. Of course, Gimli wanted something more, but nothing was more important to him then ensuring Legolas’s comfortability. He dressed slowly, placing the acorn Legolas had gifted him gently in his pocket, then leaving to get breakfast, feeling strangely hallow. 

Feeling used. 

After ordering a large plate of potatoes, sausage, eggs, a side platter of bacon, and of course a side of kafe, Gimli sat down at a table and began to eat. Aragorn was nowhere to be seen, likely staying in the latrine after all he drank last night. He tried not to dwell on the other member of their group, though he hadn’t any idea where he ran off too. 

Gimli focused on devouring his food. 

He kept his gaze low, rotating from potato's to bacon and gently feeling the ridges of the acorn in his pocket. His mind was miles away, and he noticed Legolas's arrival only when he gently placed a small tea pot on the table, and bent over the desk to kiss him directly on the lips. 

Gimli nearly choked on his meal in surprise and Legolas adopted a slightly concerned look and adjusted his grip to rub him gently on the back as he dislodged the food.

As Gimli regained the ability to breathe he turned abruptly to Legolas to stare him down with a look of clear question in his eyes. ‘what the hell?’

In front of him stood a new Legolas, practically glowing in the warm morning light that seeped into the tavern from the open windows. His hair was gathered in an intricate pattern of braids and plaits that gathered at the back of his head, unlike his usual two braids that hung by his sides. He stood as a new elf, entirely changed.

“what were ya thinking?” Gimli practically hissed, grabbing the edge of the table to lean forward, his eyes running over the few customers who had woken, but none of their eyes seemed to be drawn to the odd pair and were instead intent on guessing the contents of their omelets.

Legolas maintained his polite and slightly cool look of concern on his face, as he slid into the chair across from him. “I was thinking of greeting you meleth nin” he said almost teasingly “now, drink, I made gwend tea to celebrate”

“what?” Gimli asked the dumbfounded look not leaving his face 

“our gwend tea, it is a tradition among our people” 

Gimli felt his eyebrows deepen in their crease he watched Legolas watch him and he realized Legolas was waiting for him to respond. An air of tension settled between them, Gimli leaned forward in his chair “why are we drinking it now?” 

Legolas smiled slightly, stood, and began pouring the tea into separate mugs “to celebrate” 

Gimli’s eyes nearly bulged from his eyebrows, elves really did have different traditions than dwarfs. Gimli thought he was talking about certain elvish kinks, he remembered his cousins telling him that elves liked their ears pulled. Gimli remembered hearing the words of disdain of elvish kind spread among his people, and later asking Dwalin how he knew about elvish traditions, and the awkward pause after brought laughter and teasing for ages. Gimli discovered himself the truth of the rumor, but if Legolas was celebrating what they did yesterday, like dwarves celebrate their 50th marriage anniversary, perhaps he misunderstood the severity of having sex with an elf. Gimli didn’t exactly want Legolas to ignore him after yesterday, but this was… strange to say the least. “I’m very confused right now” he finally admitted

“what of meleth nin?” 

Gimli blew out cold air from between his lips quickly then said in a rush “well, you’re seeming happy about our little escapade yesterday, which I’m glad for I guess… But when I woke up you were completely gone, and I thought you didn’t want this, which I’m also fine with. I just think we might be rushing into everything, don’t ya?”

Legolas’s eyes grew ever deeper his eyebrows gathering together in confusion “Well, I simply left this morning to gather our gwend tea, and I was hoping to write to my father about our bond as well”

“what?!” Gimli ignored the looks the other customers shot him “You were gonna- what?! Why, why would you- no” Gimli thought of elven tradition, was it common to write home about who you lay with? They really didn’t get out much, did they? While Dwarves were comfortable in their sexuality, they understood a fair share of what was considered privacy. They knew what to keep to themselves and they knew what to write home about. A good dicking was not one of them. 

Legolas looked almost offended at Gimli’s outburst. “But…” he said slowly “He is my father, he deserves to know. He may not understand, but he deserves the least of knowledge” 

Gimli took a deep breathe “Look” he said “I like this” Gimli grabbed Legolas hands from where they sat worrying each other atop the table “us” he clarified “And nothing would bring me more joy than to welcome you in my heart, and in my home when this is all over. But, I think until it is, we should take it slow. Think about who we tell this too, think about what we announce to the world, how they might twist and turn it against us”

“you believed we should keep our lives and love secret” Legolas restated, it was question, but he didn’t ask it as one

“aye”

Legolas shook his head weakly, and Gimli felt near pity for the elf who for all but a minute ago was brimming with energy and happiness but appeared now as if he was a canoe with a large leak in it. Trying to stay afloat but still sinking nonetheless 

“It’s not exactly in the elven way” he said quietly 

“I’m sure it’s not, but I think it best”

Legolas nodded slowly, and withdrew his hands from Gimli’s grip, lowering them to his lap. He stared off bitterly to the tea, as if cursing it for existing. “So, we are to hide our bond from the world until the war is over?”

Gimli nodded

“I understand” Legolas said, his voice still low. He looked up from his lap unsurely then licked his lips and continued “I hope you don’t mind, its simply elven way to be proud of your marriage” then he continued as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb shell “however I endeavor to respect your cultural and personal preferences as best as possible”

The moment between them sizzled, Gimli felt himself as a kettle, quickly reaching his boiling point. 

Then, as Legolas leaned forward to collect himself, and the tea, Gimli exploded 

“You’re married!?”

Legolas flinched slightly in reaction blinking down at him with large elf eyes, a small question smile worked its way onto his lips “what are you-” as the realization dawned on him, he gave the tiniest “Oh.” He leaned forward, sensing the seriousness of the situation and spoke quickly “Gimli, last night when you said you understood the traditions of elven intercourse…” Legolas didn’t finish, feeling faint 

“Now I know, elf and dwarf traditions vary greatly” Gimli continued for him “But I’ll have you know that dwarfs are proud creatures, and while we are more flexible in the positions of sexual encounters than are elves, we are not so lowly that we use the willingness of others to cheat on our spouses” he spit the last words scathingly 

Legolas recoiled, opening his mouth as if to say something. 

Which is exactly the moment, that a certain hung over and sleep addled ranger decided to settle himself next to Legolas on the table. Legolas snapped his jaw shut as Aragorn sleepily reached over to steal a piece of sausage from Gimli’s plate. 

At Aragorn’s appearance the pair fell silent, their anger and confusion and guilt burned away heavily, but it stayed silent. They sat in stilted awkwardness as Aragorn made his way through half of Gimli’s plate. 

When Aragorn finally seemed to take notice of the pair quietness, his froze half way through a mouthful, then slowly, but loudly in the silence, finished chewing. His eyes slid up to Legolas’s face, and froze in mid-recognition of the change in his hair. 

His eyebrows burrowed “you changed your hair…” he said, undoubtedly running through his mental catalogue of elven hairstyles. When he landed on the mark, his eyes widened almost comically, and ignoring the looks Legolas shot him, looked rapidly back and forth between the two. 

He caught sight of the tea, then pointed at it with no audible dialogue accompanying it, his mouth opening and closing awkwardly as his mind struggled to find words.

Gimli seemed to find the sight only ever-confusing, but Legolas leapt from his space on the table and wrapped his nimble fingers around Aragorn’s upper arm and pulled him quickly away from the table, the chairs scraping behind them. 

Aragorn swore in Sindarin at the suddenness of their movements.

Legolas led him a few feet away to the front of a fire place where a warm fire crackled over logs, and began to ramble in his native Silvian, not pausing to care or even think if Aragorn could follow “Yesterday, when you were warmed with ale, you mentioned my bond with Gimli. I kissed him and-”

At Aragorn’s reaction, Legolas realized Aragorn could understand, though likely not as fluently. He pushed on “and then, before…” Legolas played with his lip between his teeth “we bedded, I asked if he understood elvish tradition and he said he did!” At this Legolas seemed to deflate, he collapsed on the arm chair to his right and buried his head in his hands, sure that Gimli was watching this entire exchange. 

He felt Aragorn’s change. He seemed gentler, as if he found less humor then he did before. He approached him slowly, then stood next to him. Legolas could sense his hesitation as he placed a gentle hand on his back and rubbed. Though Legolas didn’t want to admit it, the touch was comforting. He yearned to talk to his father, he wanted his advice, or even his caring hand, brushing his hair, braiding it with gentle nimble hands, he would know what to do. 

Aragorn began to speak in stunted Silvian “Legolas, it was a mistake, but Gimli will understand if you speak wit-”

“don’t you understand?” Legolas interrupted “elven marriage only exists within the confines of total consent”

Aragorn ran the idea through his mind “so you and Gimli aren’t married?”

Legolas shook his head, staring into the fire “he consented to the act, so I think the marriage would hold up”

Aragorn sighed deeply, and watched as Legolas buried his head in his hands again “So would your preference would be for your marriage to be withstanding or for it to be false?”

Legolas gave a slight grunting, as if he had uttered half words, but nothing understandable. Legolas heard Aragorn hovering behind him, then heard him walk away. There was something horribly hopeless in the action. He had no doubt that he was difficult to deal with due to his current state, but he would still appreciate companionship. 

Legolas couldn’t forgive himself. Tricking Gimli into marriage wasn’t simply an elvish crime but a despicable act. Legolas knew this in his heart, but he couldn’t shake the disappointment.

All elves were taught to respect themselves as who they are and not for who they are bonded with. Legolas knew to not measure his value on who had love for him in his heart, but he couldn’t help but feel almost lost knowing that Gimli in fact didn’t want to marry him, and that he lay with him anyway.

Aragorn tore himself away from Legolas and made his way back to the table where Gimli had sat back around awkwardly as if he hadn’t been plainly watching their interaction. Aragorn slid into the chair across the table, and lazily reached out a hand to steal a piece of sausage from his plate. It was a testament to Gimli’s suffering that he did not oppose the action. 

“congratulations” he said 

Gimli turned to him and raised his eyebrows “on what?”

“your marriage” Aragorn said plainly, then reached for a hunk of bread 

“my what?!” Gimli looked almost defensively 

Aragorn didn’t even need to speak, he simply glanced towards the muddled mess of the elf crumpled over near the fire. It was a pitiful sight, but he had hoped one day it would be humorous in his mind’s memory. 

Gimli seemed at a loss for words “to what, laddie, might you be referring?”

“I thought you knew all there is to know of Elven culture” Aragorn said teasingly 

“aye and I thought I did too. Between you and me though,” Gimli said aware that Legolas was likely listening in on their entire conversation “I think most of what I’ve been told by my kin isn’t the whole truth”

“It’s likely.” Aragorn consented “Elves are rather private about their marriage customs” Aragorn said again, to hell with subtlety, he was tired of this never-ending game of cat and mouse. 

He watched as confusion gave way to understanding, his lips parting and his eyes widening, and he gave a very simple and very small “Oh.” his eyes widened farther “you mean that…”  
Understanding gave way to shock “Legolas and I… we-” 

Aragorn now fighting the urge to roll his eyes leaned over to grab his mug of kafe and drain it quickly “All it takes for and elf to marry is a quick bed and they are bonded” 

Gimli blew out cold air from his lungs and sagged in his chair, as the thought rolled over him “so he wasn’t cheating with me”

Aragorn smiled “You honestly though Legolas cheating on his spouse with you?” 

Gimli gave a half shrug 

Aragorn smiled “Then you do not know our elf friend half as well as you think you do. Legolas is fiercely loyal, and specifically-” Aragorn continued, his words masked in meaning “to the people he loves”

“Aye I see that” then “see, we dwarves are a proud people. We have our customs as well and we bond only once” 

Aragorn took another sip “as do elves”

“apparently” The acorn weighed his pocket down heavily, it sat as if it were a hunk of freshly mined gold, a precious jewel or gem, Gimli ran it between his fingers. It was only when he looked up did he notice Aragorn was blatantly staring at him did he speak again “what?”

Aragorn clenched his jaw then leaned over the table to swat at Gimli who still stood there in shock “Go. Talk. To. Him” 

“A’ight A’ight I’m going” Gimli swatted away Aragorn’s attacks, straightened his jacket then swore under his breathe “Mahals balls”

Aragorn pulled Gimli’s plate closer to him, ignoring the elvish bonding tea as he watched Gimli walk over to where Legolas sat still toppled over himself, and began finishing the rest of his meal. The meal was large enough to fill a hobbit, much less a dwarf, and much much less a man, but Aragorn was no quitter.

He watched, rather openly, as Gimli placed a caring hand on Legolas’s back then withdrew as Legolas quickly stood up and stared at him with wide eyes. He watched but did not hear as Gimli rubbed his hands together nervously and began to speak. 

Legolas sitting on an arm chair, and Gimli standing where about equal in height.

It was almost laughable. A dwarf falling in love with an elf. Wilder still was the idea that an elf would love the dwarf back. Wilder then it all however, was how lovely they looked together. Fitting like lost pieces of puzzles, that against all odds found a match in each other. Two idiots, in the middle of a crisis of misunderstandings and miscommunications. It was strange, it was all too bizarre, and it was wonderful. 

Aragorn watched as words were exchanged, and Gimli leaned forward to the confusion, then contentment, of Legolas, and kissed him gently. Legolas froze for a moment, then joined him.  
Aragorn looked away and failed trying to keep the smile off his face. He had no idea where this would go next, but for the moment he didn’t let his mind wonder of it. He just turned back to his (Gimli’s) plate and continued eating with a renewed vigor. 

Even in the darkest of battles and largest of wars, there were stolen moment of peace and of love. And despite the couples seemingly endless mistakes, something beautiful arose from it. 

He took a sip of kafe, and thought of his own elf waiting in Rivendale, he missed her, longed for her, but for one shocking moment of clarity the thought of her did not pain him. It brought him only happiness. Something to look forward to. Something to live for, to fight for. 

He smiled. 

For the moment, if only the moment, all was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so much fun to write!  
> It got a bit longer than I expected but I love these three idiots so much I didn't mind!  
> Drop me a kudo's if you liked it, or let me know what you thought by leaving me a comment (To make my day)  
> Or hang out with me on tumblr at spork-of-rae !  
> Keep creating!


	4. ...Oh (an epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved the blind Thranduil hc, so I wanted to add it but it didn't work here so I fibbed it and made him seeing impaired!
> 
> Have fun!

Thranduil sat laid out on his throne, running the worn letter between his fingers. There was something almost comforting about the movement. As he had lost most of his sight when he received his scars, seeing was an extra step for him. His stewards knew this and took extra steps to ensure his comfort, announcing their actions before they carried them out, letting their feet fall louder then most elves would, occasionally whistling or humming if they were out of his sight but hadn’t left the room. 

Despite his trusted sense partially leaving him, he could still read. It took extra time, yes, but he could make out words on pages, he could see paintings, and pictures, and if he focused just well enough his eyes could discern facial expressions. 

When he read Legolas’s letter however, he thought for a moment that his mind was playing a trick on him. First when he saw the sure scrawl of Legolas’s print, he felt relief, more so when he learned of his presence in Lothlorien, then worry when he read that he was continuing the battle until the war was won, then at the following sentence pure unadulterated confusion. It didn't help that he was in the middle of a sip of tea, when he read that he was married. 

Married.

To a dwarf. 

To a dwarf. 

To. A. Dwarf. A dwarf. A small, hairy, bad tempered, and long bearded dwarf. The word always seemed a fitting description for the creature. Short, stout, and not the least bit elegant. It fell stilted on his tongue. Yet the word was printed finely there. Clear as the rest of the letter. He had half a mind to call in a steward or maid and ask them to read the letter to him, but he cast the thought away as quickly as it came to him. If it was in fact not written, then he would look a fool, if it was, then Legolas would look one. 

A foolish prince and king would not a good kingdom make.

He read the words again, felt with his fingertips the scratches the quill made on paper. Spelling the word clearly, spelling the sentence, the letter, the fine print of Legolas’s name on the bottom corner. 

He found no fault. 

He found confusion and anger yes, but mostly he felt concern. 

As to his knowledge Legolas found as much distaste in the dwarven race as did he, he found no amusement in their lifestyles their lack of hygiene or their brutish, lumbering ways. If he left like this, either he was under some kind of spell, or worse yet, it was of his own free will, but he was addled by ale, and rebellion, or the toils of war. 

Thranduil knew Legolas was too young to attend this quest, more so he knew he was too young to fight in a war, too fragile from the loss of his family, from his own childhood sickness that plagued him only a few centuries before he decided to leave. 

When he was alerted to Legolas’s presence in Lothlorien, he was informed that he was well, not physically or mentally injured, that he was holding up well to the recent loss of a member of the Fellowship, Gandalf the Grey. But Thranduil heard the stories, that Gandalf had returned stronger as ever bearing a new name. 

He was aware of the fellowships movement throughout the world after the battle, he had been informed by a rather talkative Raven that they intended to stay for a few nights in his palace, that the wizard, the halflings, the man, the dwarf, and his son were to arrive soon. 

Any moment now, they would come bursting into his halls, and he knew he would have his son back. He knew as well that he would be accompanied by his… his husband… that they would have to speak of it. 

Thranduil for the moment let his mind wander. Not for the first time, he wished for the comfort of his wife. She would know what to do, what to say. She had a way with words and on the rare occasions her words failed her, she would turn to touch. A simple touch of fingers on cheeks, or the small brush of her tucking a wayward strand of hair behind an ear, could convey everything that words couldn't reach.

Thranduil let his working eye close and fell into comforting darkness. When he first fell ill, the darkness frightened him, more so then any 7000-year-old creature should have been allowed to be frightened by something so trivial. Yet it did. When he had full use of his eyes, the darkness was impermanent, fleeting. All he had to do to cast the shadows off, was mutter an incantation, light a candle, look to the stars. Yet, when he awoke, grievously injured, his eyes wrapped in bandage, darkness encasing him, the healers unsure if he would ever gain the ability to see quite fully again, there was no escape from the darkness. 

Yes, eventually he healed to see light again, more impure then it was before, tainted and greyed. Yet when his wife would stroke the curve of his ear just lightly enough to show her love, when she smiled, when Legolas laughed, or tried to comb his hair with uncooperative tiny fingers, light would shine again. Not in the way Thranduil had grown use to, but brighter then he had ever expected.

When a guard entered the room with a loud creak of the door, Thranduil pocketed the letter and cast the memories from his mind, turning to give the nervous elf a curious look. 

The elf fidgeted in her place and stuttered a “they’re arrived sir”

He nodded regally “send them in” 

The guard nodded, then clearly remembering her training to vocalize her actions squeaked out a “yes sir, right away sir” She darted out of the room

Thranduil adjusted himself in the throne, rearranging his clothes to lay artfully around him. He commandeered cool nonchalance, despite his emotions raging on internally. 

When the door opened, he listened rather than watched as a Wizard marched into his throne room with as much confidence as a king walking into his kingdom, yet enough respect to make Thranduil less likely to dissaprove of him manner. A man was by his side, yet he did not steal a glance, four halflings followed, one still limping from his previous injuries, two awkwardly nudging the other as if trying to get the others attention, one stood still a bandage wrapped thickly over his hand. Then he felt his son walk in, his heart jumping a mile at the sure-footed step of Legolas, standing side by side with the dwarf.

The dwarf he married. 

He addressed them coolly in Westron “I welcome you to my kingdom”

Aragorn responded “Many thanks my king, our travels have been long and weary but we are grateful for your hospitality we hop-”

Thranduil cut him off before he began to ramble “did you bring me spoils from your time at war?”

Aragorn stuttered “Ex-Excuse me, my king?”

Thranduil raised his eyebrows and leaned slightly forward in his throne, he could make out the blurry silhouette of the ranger standing hesitantly in front of him “My hospitality is well received I assume but I ask for something back, a treasure from war, from battle, as a show of your thanks” if there was one thing Thranduil loved, it was putting on a show of the spoiled king.

Gandalf spoke now “We can bring you a leaf from the head of an Ent. In the last battle against Saruman, this single leaf fell from TreeBeard and he offered it to our young hobbits as a show of respect” 

One of the hobbits shuffled and opened his mouth to protest “But he gave it to me” 

Gandalf’s voice was low with warning “Pippin”

“I was gonna hang it over my fireplace”

The other hobbit turned to the one speaking “You’d drop it and it would burn up, you know this Pip”

He scoffed, and recoiled slightly “No, I’d put it in a case or… something…”

Gandalf tuned to the halfling, Pippin his name was “Took, you will do as you are told”

Thranduil in mild amusement, he hoped he kept hidden, raised a single heavily ringed hand, to silence them “Keep your Ent leaf halfling, I do not care for treasures as simple as that. I was hoping” he said slowly, his voice heavy with meaning “You would return something of mine, that I had lost”

The meaning was not lost on the group, though he could tell it was not understood by most 

“what does he mean by that you reckon?” Pippin asked the other he had been arguing with quietly, as if the king himself, as well as any other elf who passed the halls couldn’t hear the conspiratorial whisper 

Legolas stood forward, and stronger then the sapling he left as, now a grown tree steady and sure, he spoke “you ask too much my king”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow but did not speak, did not trust himself to 

“Things that once were yours can change and grow when you let them go. They may return to you, yes, but they will no longer be yours, at least not in the way you remembered them” 

Thranduil felt his lip tremble at the thought of losing his son but he spoke carefully, calmly “and have I lost that which once belonged to me? Has it changed so much it is no longer mine?”

Legolas’s voice was now calmer, gentler. He took a few steps forward, and Thranduil ignored the defensive step forward the dwarf mirrored, as if he were to protect him from his own father“No, you will never loose me, but I expect you to understand that I have changed”

At the change in pronouns, Thranduil stood quickly from his throne and rushed forward, hearing Legolas’s movement as well, he ignored the tension that filled the rest of the group at the sudden movement. 

They crashed into each other, Thranduil’s arms finding their way around his son comfortingly, he felt Legolas’s smile from a mile away, and even in the shadow of his sight, a light shined brightly. 

“Ada” Legolas said through his smile “I missed you” he spoke in Silvan

And Thranduil smiled back “My acorn” he said, the nickname returning easily, along with the bittersweet memory of his mother, how she would have hugged him, how she would have admonished the both of them for their words of wit.

Thranduil moved his hands quickly to Legolas’s face running his fingers from Legolas’s hairline to his chin, trusting his fingers to notice any scars his eyes might miss. Legolas stood still, fighting off a smile as he let his father’s fingers maneuver his face. 

When Thranduil was sure his son was alright, he moved his hands to his hair and froze at the unfamiliar braids, marriage braids. The whole situation crashed down again, the war, the battle, the letter, the marriage, the dwarf. Legolas noticed his father’s hesitation, and bowed his head

“Ada…” Legolas said 

But Thranduil was moving, he patted his son’s cheek caringly, then moved away, turning to address the rest of the slightly confused group 

“you will be given rooms, and full access to amenities. From the bath houses, to the kitchen, a feast is being prepared for dusk, but until then please, retire to your rooms, my stewards will show you the way" he gestured with a hand 

Legolas nodded and bowed, a clear agreement to speak later. He stepped away and joined his group ignoring the open stares the rest were giving him. He noticed neither Aragorn or the dwarf joined their confusion, it was as if they were already aware of Legolas’s parentage. 

Gandalf spoke for them “your kindness is much appreciated” he stepped back and began to follow Galion who appeared to escort them to their rooms

As they left he heard the other halfling, the limping one speak up “Mr. Legolas sir, am I correct in assuming you are his son?”

Legolas nodded “Your assumption is correct sir”

The one fighting with Pippin, piped up “blimey, we’ve been traveling with a prince this whole t-”

The doors closed behind them leaving Thranduil alone again. He felt giddy, but the underlying issue remained. They would speak after the feast, he would find out what was going on with his son. 

The feast was fine, he was surprised that the dwarf’s manners outdid the hobbits. The halflings together consumed at least half the table. Though he noticed the two quieter, more heavily wounded hobbits starkly avoided the center Lembas Bread as if it carried disease. They seemed to enjoy the fresher things, the fruit, the salads, the wine, and juices. 

It was a refreshing meal, but his eyes kept wandering to where his son and the dwarf sat. While they used one arm to eat, the one closest to each other was conspicuously under the table, and he was willing to bet their hands were entwined together. He had noticed they hadn’t wandered from each other, they stayed close, joined nearly at the hip. 

Legolas turned to smile at something Gimli said under his breath, he laughed loudly, not bothering to hide his smile behind his hand as he did before. Thranduil knitted his eyebrows at the action. It was good to see his son enjoying himself, and proud to be doing so, but the change in him was stark and directed at a dwarf, no less. 

Legolas caught his eye and his smile melted from his face at the look, Thranduil quickly turned to engage Aragorn in conversation about his childhood in Rivendell

Later that evening when the entire fellowship had retired to their chambers for a long night, Thranduil moved gracefully through the halls and came to the room his son was staying in, Legolas had denied entry to his old room, larger and more elegant then the others, he wanted to stay near his companions. A strange choice but one Thranduil allowed. Battle did things to people, changed them, small things from the ways they laughed, to where they slept. Thranduil was patient, he could wait for his son to meld back into his old life. He had survived and that’s all he asked for. 

But now, with this marriage, nothing could go back to normal. Legolas could not adjust to life in Mirkwood any more then Thranduil could endure a dwarf as kin.

When he arrived at Legolas’s room, he found it empty. He dreaded the thought, but he ran his tongue harshly over his top teeth and turned on his heel to where he knew the dwarf was staying. Though when he came to the door and knocked, he was also met with silence. In barely withheld anger he opened the door and entered the room where he saw sure signs of his son, a horsehair brush, his bow and quiver, his cloak, but he didn’t see Legolas, or his pet dwarf anywhere. 

Thranduil wandered from the room, to the hallway, trusting his keen ears and his knowledge of the layout of the castle to guide him, as darkness had fallen. He listened to the sound of hobbits snoring away soundly in their respective rooms, they had all chosen to sleep in the same room, in two different beds. They were close creatures and truly understood the meaning of friendship, though they were short and rather crude, they were amusing and kind, he understood why Legolas cared for them so. 

He heard the hurried but light step of an elf wandering towards him, and Thranduil stopped the elf “do you know where my son is?”

“Yes sir, I saw him down by the kitchen, I just came from the cellar though, and was asked to deliver linens, so I did not speak with him or inquire about his location” 

Thranduil recognized the elf, he was one he had seen before but never spoken to, he seemed sure of himself however. Thranduil nodded “do you know if the dwarf was with him” 

The elf hesitated, obviously picking up on his sons inability to maintain subtlety “Yes sir, they were close” 

Thranduil dismissed the elf and carried on his way, his mind playing loops. Why was Legolas in the kitchen with the dwarf? He barely even knew how to make food for himself, what connection did he have with a kitchen of all places?

Thranduil was quickly growing tired of this scavenger hunt. He hoped this lead would provide him some results or he would retire to his room. 

However, as he neared the kitchen he noticed the lights that brightened the space, he crept near the door, slowing himself, choosing to listen rather then see. 

First, he heard the sound of pouring water, and the tinkling of a spoon against a mug. His other senses picked up the smell of green tea, one of his sons’ favorite beverages. However, it was not Legolas who drank the tea, but the dwarf. He could imagine their positions, Legolas standing and pouring the tea, Gimli sitting by a table watching it happen. 

“No wonder you’re such a prick” came a voice, low, gruff, dwarven

Thranduil felt himself tense, no dwarf was allowed to insult his family, but before he could spring to action he heard Legolas’ laugh again, openly and proudly 

“growing up in such a place does things to people’s mind” Gimli continued 

"But that decision was not my choice. So, enlighten me master dwarf, what does it say of you, that you chose to marry one who ‘grew up in such a place’?” Legolas asked teasing 

“hey! I chose nothing of the sort, I was bloody tricked!”

Thranduil leaned closer, he was tricked? Was this all an accident that Legolas was simply to afraid to ask for help with? Was he ashamed of his mistakes? Worried of any punishments? He wished he would simply come to him and speak of his troubles, he could help him. 

But Legolas simply scoffed, there was movement as if someone had pushed the other 

“You knave!” Legolas shouted mirth clear in his voice “you said you agreed to it Mr. ‘I know all about elvish tradition’

“and what of you, you could have been a bit clearer don’t ya think?”

“my apologies master dwarf, I didn’t think I had to spell it out for you” 

at this there was sudden movement, the sound of skin smacking skin, then there was silence as the dwarf adjusted himself 

“peace!” Gimli cried “peace! I have a hot drink with me, let’s be mindful of the heat why don’t we”

There was silence and the sound of Gimli sipping from his mug before he spoke 

“so this is where you grew up?”

“yes, it was my home for many a years, I was sent to live in the Golden Wood with Lady Galadriel and Celeborne for a few years in my childhood, but I always consider this to be my home”

“You lived in Lothlorien?”

Thranduil shifted slightly to peak through the door, watching the scene play out through a single blurry eye

“yes” Legolas said, reaching over to take a sip of the green tea that Gimli drank from too

Thranduil marveled at the sight, they were close if Legolas drank from the same cup

Legolas weighed his words before he spoke carefully, quietly as if the words were sacred 

“After my mother died, my father had a hard time taking care of me” 

Thranduil felt a rough pang in his heart at the mention of his departed wife, at how openly vulnerable Legolas allowed himself to sound.

“He tried his best, but he was ill, and angry and grieving, so he sent me to people he trusted, to take care of me when he couldn’t. But elves, and I’ll have to explain this to you since you obviously won’t know-” At this Legolas squealed as Gimli reached across the table and pinched him on the arm “but, elves react to emotional distress differently. So, when we lose a loved one, we can fall into mortal grief, and die ourselves, that’s what almost happened to my father. When I was grieving for my mother and suddenly lost contact with my father I took to illness as well”

Legolas reached out to take hold of Gimli’s hand and they sat in silence for a minute “So yes I lived in Lothlorien for a while, but when I fell ill my father returned for me and I returned to health as I returned to the Green Wood. 

Gimli was silent as he drank the words in “well I think he’s a git for it”

Legolas recoiled “what do you mean?”

“well I get his reasoning for sending you away, but he caused you harm. He had no right to ignore your suffering” 

Legolas tilted his head “I- Gimli I get your concern, but I do love my father.”

“aye, and I love mine, but he’s made his fair share of mistakes. I’ve told him rightly so when he needs to hear it. People you love can do bad things, it doesn’t mean their bad people”

The words hung between them and hit Thranduil squarely. At first, he jumped to anger and denial, but as he stood in silence separated thinly by his son, he realized the dwarf was right. Gimli was right. Sending Legolas away was the wrong choice, and when he realized how sick Legolas had fallen because of his decision, he knew he would never be able to forgive himself. Thranduil still couldn’t. But he would work as hard as he could every day to make it up to him, to make it right. To be half as good of a person his son thought he was. 

Legolas nodded slowly “you never cease to surprise me Meleth nin, your wisdom is like a well. It never runs dry, but deeper still, I think, is your compassion.” 

“No” Gimli said “I think just my love”

“aye, your love too” Legolas said, and that was it

Thranduil suddenly felt like a thief, to have stolen such a beautiful moment for himself when it was not his to be a part of but as he moved to leave, he caught a glimpse of his son through the cracks of the door. His face illuminated by candlelight, him holding on tightly to a large dwarven hand, he looked happy. 

Thranduil knew how his son could glow, how he could brighten a room with a smile or a word. But now, he seemed brighter somehow, as if simply being in the presence of this dwarf changed his life, made him lighter, kinder, brighter, new. 

the word escaped from his lips“…oh”

It seemed so simple, the answer was so clear all along. 

At the sound, Legolas narrowed his eyebrows and rose. 

“what do you hear?” Gimli asked

Thranduil stepped quickly away from the door, knowing his son was hearing his every footstep, with two soft strides Legolas reached the door and pulled it open, ready to fight. It seemed those years of battle had conditioned him to do so. 

Thranduil didn’t try to hide, he stood tall and stiffly as the smell of tea surrounded him

“Ada?” came Legolas confused response 

“Legolas” Thranduil knew to step through the doorway to play it off, but he found his feet couldn’t move. 

Legolas didn’t say anything, he stood with a hand still on the knob. He was afraid of his reaction, afraid of rejection likely. 

Thranduil turned his sight to Gimli who sat, feet dangling on a stool pulled up near a table. He knew to be quiet, but didn't know not to stare. For a brief moment, Thranduil could swear they made eye contact. 

Legolas watched Thranduil’s line of sight change to Gimli, and he spoke again “Ada…” this time his voice was heavy, with apology, and shame, but there was something else, a strength, a willingness to be inflexible. He continued in Silvan “Ada I’m sorry this was sudden, and I know it’s a lot to put on you, but I’m no-”

Thranduil raised a single regale hand to silence him and he responded in their native tongue “does he make you happy?” 

Legolas nodded without hesitation, and for a single shimmering moment, Thranduil saw only a kid. He saw Legolas barely 80 years old putting weeds he had gathered in a flower vase for a center piece, he saw Legolas as a baby pulling on his hair, and grasping his finger, he saw Legolas as a 300 year old lying sickly and pale on a cot in Lothlorien, he saw him crying, shooting a bow and arrow for the first time, he saw him on his first camping expedition, he saw him proudly reciting the poems of the Green Wood from memory, he saw him hanging upside down from a great oak. And then he saw him. An adult, but still his baby. With shining defiant eyes, and a look of heavy love in his eyes

“yes, Ada” Legolas said “he makes me happier than anything”

Thranduil nodded and felt something stick in his throat. No matter how many times he tried to clear it, it just came back. He leaned forward and kissed his son on the crown of his head, then stepped back and nodded again, giving him a thorough look. “Than who am I to take that happiness from you?” Then he turned to Gimli and spoke in clear Westron “take care of him master dwarf, and we will take care of you”

Gimli nodded quickly, as if shaking him out of his reverie

Thranduil turned from the kitchen and walked into the darkness. As he left he heard the sure sounds of Gimli and Legolas celebrating, he heard Legolas shaky breathes, Gimli swearing, and then they embraced fondly. He left before he could hear more.

The dwarf had changed his son, but not in a bad way. Thranduil had to let his son go but when he did he knew he would be in good hands. 

He felt a traitorous smile creep to his face. He may not understand it, but perhaps it was never meant to be understood by lingering ears or watchful eyes, simply for the pair to experience, themselves.

Oh, and what a pair they were. 

As long as they were too live, and as long as they were to love, they had his blessing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my goodness, you guys!
> 
> I thought I was done, but you guys started talking about Thranduil's response and I started imagining it, and then I wanted it!  
> I actually had a lot of fun writing this so it's fine, but jeez!! This was so much longer then I ever expected this to get to!  
> Thanks to those who recommended this addition, y'all made me laugh!
> 
> Leave me a kudo's or one last comment! Or come chill with me on tumblr at spork-of-rae


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